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Updated: May 25, 2025
The evening came, and the room at the Mechanics' Institute, which had just been established in Cowfold, was crowded. Admission was not by ticket, so that, though the Whigs had convened it, there was a strong muster of the enemy. Mr.
At last one died, and the other took his death so much to heart that he sickened and died too. The inns were nothing like the Cowfold inns. They were huge places, with stables like barracks, and outside each of them were relays of beautiful horses standing ready for the change.
Broad had, of course, discovered what was in the wind, and her pride suffered a severe shock. She had destined Priscilla, as the daughter of a Flavel, for a London minister, and that she should marry a tradesman was intolerable. Worse still, a tradesman in Cowfold! What would become of their influence in the town, she continually argued with Mr.
"Oh, if you please, sir, Mr. Cutts is not guilty." "Why not?" "It is a cruel thing that he should suffer. He is as kind a creature as ever lived. You don't know how kind he has been to his old aunt. He always sold honest things. There are scores of people in Cowfold who deserve to be transported more than he." "That won't help him much. Good people are a queer set sometimes.
He went up into the tower, and into a great closet in which nobody else in Cowfold had ever been. Furthermore, as an adjunct to the watchmaking, he repaired barometers and thermometers, and it is certain that not a farmer within ten miles of Cowfold knew what was at the back of the plate of his weather-glass. How a man with such a name as Tacchi came to settle in Cowfold was never understood.
An attempt, however, to show what the waking hours in Cowfold Square were like may not be out of place. The shopkeeper came into his shop at half-past seven, about half an hour after the shutters had been taken down by his apprentice.
Mortimer's door, and was face to face with a raised desk, protected by rails, behind which clerks were busy writing, or answering questions, her dreams disappeared; she saw what a fool she was, and she would have liked to retreat. However, it was too late, for one of the gentlemen, behind the rails asked what she wanted. "I've come about Mr. Cutts." "Oh yes; committed for arson at Cowfold.
Broad resumed "I may, however, observe that George Allen was in company with the intoxicated mob which devastated Cowfold; and although he has asserted that he merely endeavoured to control its excesses and such appears to be the view taken by the civil authorities who have prosecuted the perpetrators of the outrages we, as members, my dear brethren, of Christ's Body, have to be guided by other considerations.
If he could not get anything to do, they must leave London, for living on the allowance from Cowfold was impossible.
There was, of course, endless gossip as to the meaning of Mr. Allen's appeal. Whether George ever knew what it was is more than I can say, but it is certain that Cowfold never knew. Mr. Allen always resolutely repelled all questions, saying that it would be time enough to go further when he was next attacked.
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